


You Smiled Because You Knew

by drinkginandkerosene



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Moving In Together, going public
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkginandkerosene/pseuds/drinkginandkerosene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan and Brendon are finally moving in together, and Ryan is terrified.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Smiled Because You Knew

We were never going to move in to each other’s apartment.

I hated mine, and beside, it was tiny and bare. It never really felt like a much of a home to me but then really, what had? My home had been found throwing up in a bathroom stall, and while I tried to visit there as much as I could, it was a hard home to maintain.

You simply had too much stuff to move into yourplace, bits and pieces you’d found from every country we’d toured in, happy meal toys and more glitter than was surely okay in a ‘straight’ guy. Apparently you were Rossexual and while that had made me smile, it had sparked off the familiar paranoia of knowing one day you was going to find a prettier, less fucked up girl.

Does it count as paranoia if you know it’s gonna come true?

So here we are, standing outside of the apartment we picked. It’s not too big, but it has a great view and a room where I can write while looking at the dock, and a room where you can play your piano. I love watching you make music. You never even notice I’m there, too involved in your world of keys and ivory. Sometimes you allow me to enter it with you, sitting by your side, your hands over mine as you guide my hands to the sounds with the most resonance. And you smile because we were speaking in your language.

So why is my heart in my throat as I look at this key, this slip of metal?

You looks across at me, and I swear, you can fucking read me easier than any book. You reached out and took my hand, mine fitting in yours more naturally than a jigsaw.

“You can do this Ry.”

When you say my name, it always has this little caress in it, like I’m worth something. I’m not sure if it makes me feel better or worse about myself.

“Right.”

It must make me feel better because I’m unlocking the door and stepping inside.

You moved your stuff in the day before along with the few joint furniture items we bought, and I don’t have all that much stuff. My guitars make up most of the value of everything I’d brought. When I was sorting through my things, I kept throwing them away. It was just stuff. Pointless and useless. 

The first thing I do is start unpacking my CDs and records, maybe being a little OCD about the order of the things on the shelves. By band and genre, not alphabetically. I can feel your amused smirk behind me.

“…Shut up.”

Books next. I’m less particular with these because it’s pretty fucking impossible to categorize literature, especially when it’s good. After a moments pause, I mix yours in. I turn around in time to see your smirk turn into a wide grin. I don’t tell you to shut up this time. 

The day passes quickly, a ton of small jobs taking up my time. Being the taller of the two, I’m the one who gets stuck with all the stuff above the waist. We barely have time to talk and I’m almost grateful. Because a thought has been gnawing at the back of my head.

Letters for us both are going to be sent to the same place.

Invites for stuff.

Orders.

It isn’t going to take long for people to find out about us.

And I’m scared shitless.

Our bedframe hasn’t arrived yet so we curl up on a mattress, the blue glow from the tv bleaching your skin, making you look like a half-there angel. I reach out to touch you, just to make sure you’re real, and I won’t wake up eighteen in my father’s house. It wouldn’t surprise me. Not much makes a habit of staying in my life. 

You’ve lasted the longest so far, next to Spence.

We’re not watching the TV, we’re watching each other as you trace words on my wrist before pressing a kiss to the faded scars there.

“You’re worried.”

Reading my mind again. I nod, throat clamming up.

“Ryan. Talk to me. What are you so afraid of? People knowing? But why?”

Well, ain’t that the question of the hour?

Maybe because I’ve had it literally beaten into me that being gay is a fate worse than death. Maybe because I don’t really see why it’s anyone’s business but mine who I love, and being intensely private anyway, I don’t see why anyone has to know. Maybe because I don’t want to add crazed fanboys onto your potential stalker list along with the girls.

Or maybe it’s simply because Ryan Ross is a coward.

“People talk Bren.”

You look exasperated, and for a moment I think you’re gonna come back with a scathing remark. Instead, you pull me closer, putting my head in the nook where your shoulder and neck meet, possibly my favourite place in the world.

“You listen to me Ryan Ross. Yes, people talk. But what the heck have they got to talk about with us? We don’t get caught breaking the law, we don’t have BDSM sex dungeons and we don’t party with Pete too often.”

That raises a smile.

“If people talk about us, they’ll say things about how they could tell how madly in love we were and are. How they always knew we’d end up together. If they think we’ll have kids and get married. And okay, maybe yes, wonder what the sex is like but we’ll just reply with: ‘Smokin’.’ And Ryan, you have nothing to be ashamed of with us. This is rock and roll, not country. This is the refuge of the outsider, even if you gays aren’t so very much on the outside any more.”

I push your shoulder playfully because I hate the way you can make me feel better when I’m determined to be in a bad mood. You pin my wrists effortlessly, straddling my thin waist and looking down on me.

“And anyway, I’ll just answer any questions with… I’m freakin’ crazy about him. That should be good enough, don’t you think?”

Yeah. 

I think it definitely is.


End file.
